


thick skin and an elastic heart

by thirteenghosts (newsbypostcard)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Established Relationship, M/M, Partner Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/thirteenghosts
Summary: As it approaches time for the Board to select the final leader of Overwatch, Jack decides to express his concerns about Gabe.It's a betrayal. Jack knows it is. The thing of it is that when they are in private -- when it's just the two of them; when the battle's done after a long day, after twelve hours, after fifteen hours, after twenty-two hours in the field -- Gabriel looks up at him where he's seated on the bed, knuckles as cracked as his outlook, and says:"Morrison. I'm -- tired."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [thick skin and an elastic heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10364280) by [Svadilfary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svadilfary/pseuds/Svadilfary)



> This takes place during the first Omnic crisis, ~30 yrs prior to the game. Jack uses the fact of Gabriel's depression and confidence of same against him when speaking against his promotion to leader of Overwatch.
> 
> The decision to make the board faceless was intentional.
> 
> Title is a Sia lyric.

  


  


As it approaches time for the Board to select the final leader of Overwatch, Jack decides to express his concerns about Gabe.

It's a betrayal. Jack knows it is. The thing of it is that when they are in private -- when it's just the two of them; when the battle's done after a long day, after twelve hours, after fifteen hours, after twenty-two hours in the field -- Gabriel looks up at him where he's seated on the bed, knuckles as cracked as his outlook, and says:

"Morrison. I'm -- _tired._ "

And Jack is tired, too. But he's tired in a different sense; his muscles ache and he feels like he could sleep for a week, but so too is he energized. After so many hours of adrenaline dumping into his system, Jack feels like he could stay up all night given a pot of coffee and a conversation topic interesting enough. He could stay up and do paperwork if he needed to, only he doesn't need to at all, because it's already done; he could stay up and play a round of chess with Reinhardt, or engage in target practice with Ana, who's always telling him he should be proficient in more weapon types anyway.

Yet Gabriel sits on the bed in front of him, shoulders rounded, and Jack thinks there is no water that would roll off his back, were it to fall. Not at this point; not in the way a leader needs it to. Jack thinks he could take out his gun and point it at Gabriel and that Gabriel would blink at him and say, "the hell are you doing, put that away," with barely an edge to it at all. Like he couldn't care less whether Jack fires. Like he couldn't care less that he's being aimed at.

And it's true, in a way, that this makes Gabriel more effective than Jack is. Jack is always running and leaping and throwing down biotic fields while taking point, doing everything he can to do as much damage as possible from the front. Yet it's Gabriel who always looks the more fearless -- appearing behind enemies and shooting them in the head point-blank, or whatever the omnic equivalent of a head is; climbing to obscene heights and then dropping from above, spinning with nameless grace as he pulls the triggers to his shotguns again and again until every one of those fuckers is dead at his feet.

If Jack is focused in the field to a point of intensity, Gabriel gives the impression of being carefree in comparison. 

The thing of it is that Jack sees him for what he really is: care _less_.

Reckless, even. Not in the field, but out of it--

"Jack," Gabriel says, sitting before him. There's a waver in his voice that could bring any damn person to their knees if they had even a fragment of empathy in their body. "I'm just _tired_. I am so, so, _so_ \--"

Jack could stay up or he could sleep for a week, but instead he puts down whatever he's holding and takes Gabe under his hands. "I know, Reyes," he says, in that voice he hopes might serve to soothe. "I know you are."

Gabriel holds at Jack's waist where he stands in front of him and holds his forehead against the board of Jack's gut, sometimes in stillness and sometimes with shaking shoulders. 

Jack knows what he has to do, or grows to know it over time.

"Has Commander Reyes performed inadequately in the field?" he is asked.

Jack frowns, surprised he's meeting resistance. "No. I wouldn't say that."

"Has he given you any reason to doubt his preparedness? Combat readiness? Dedication to the mission?"

"No, but--"

"Each mission he has led for the purposes of Overwatch has been a resounding success." The turn of a page. "His results rival yours -- in metrics, exceed them."

Jack blinks back annoyance. "That's not -- I'm not arguing that Reyes is not an effective leader. I'm arguing--"

"There is no member of Commander Reyes' team that has spoken ill of him at all, except to say that he is at times unduly terse. This is to be expected. He has risen quickly through the ranks, much as you have. The pressure on him to perform is tremendous--"

"That is what I'm trying to explain. I believe the pressure that has _already_ been placed on Commander Reyes may be reaching a critical point. He has confided to me on several occasions--"

"You understand how this sounds suspicious." Jack is being peered at over the tops of the spectacles of a board member without any combat experience whatsoever, so far as Jack can recall. "That you are here to report on your primary competition for this position."

Jack stares. He takes a steadying breath.

_I'm tired, Jack. Sometimes I feel so tired I don't know if--_

"Gabriel Reyes and I have been--" he bites at his lip, swallows his pride-- "in a relationship of a personal and sexual nature for the past several months. I understand that this violates conflict of interest clauses in our respective contracts with Overwatch, but--"

"--Commander Morrison--"

"--we have each of us worked hard to ensure our personal relationship has not affected the rest of the team. Apart from a mutual confidence in Operative Amari, there is no member of the Overwatch team--"

" _Commander_."

"--to whom we have disclosed our involvement--"

"Your involvement with Commander Reyes is in fact well-documented among the core members of _both_ of your teams." It comes out sounding amused. Jack blinks his distaste. "The Board has elected to turn a blind eye until such a time as one or both of your performances suffered. Instead, each of you has only excelled. Obviously we prefer no romantic involvement among our operatives, particularly given that the state of the _world_ is in your hands." He is being judged, now. Jack is being judged by a pair of spectacles. "But such as it is..."

Jack clenches his jaw until the bile of annoyance retreats in his throat. "Does it not strike you as odd that I," he begins, "Gabriel's partner and confidante, would be standing before you attempting to sabotage his chances at promotion?" 

He waits. No one seems to have any smartass response to that. 

"I do not mask my ambition," Jack says, "and neither does Reyes. I have come to present my genuine--" emotion surges in him; he swallows it down-- "concern about -- a good man -- and an excellent operative -- who has begun to lose equilibrium." He clenches a fist by his side until his throat stops working against his will. "I am standing in front of you not only on behalf of the mission and its integrity, but also on the behalf of Commander Reyes. As the person closest to him, both personally and in rank, I am here to express my concerns about the implications of putting a man who struggles as much as Gabriel does on a day-to-day basis into a primary leadership position when he tells me--" God save him from this twinge in his voice-- "in private, sometimes nightly, when we have retreated to quarters, that he does not know how much longer he can persevere as he has done so far."

The silence is stunned, and Jack wonders for the first time if he has made the right choice.

"Do you feel his performance suffers?" he is asked, next.

"Not in the field," Jack says. "He performs as admirably as ever when there is a task to perform. When he is given instructions, a mission, parameters, guidelines -- he follows it all to the letter. He does not suffer from a lack of drive to fight the omnics. But I believe that the pressures of primary leadership may not…" He clears his throat. "I believe he would not thrive in such a position."

"He has applied to the position himself."

"I do not doubt that he wants it."

"But you do not feel him capable."

"He is capable. Reyes is a born leader. He would perform the duties required of him with competence and without hesitation; he would lead with a strong hand and clarity of foresight. Don't misunderstand me: there is nothing remiss with his field performance whatsoever. If performance and professionalism is the merit on which you're appointing someone to this position, disregard everything I've had to say. Gabriel would lead this world to victory against the omnics as completely as I would. But on a personal basis, he would suffer in so doing. That is my genuine belief."

He is being stared at again.

Jack's eyes pinch with frustration. "Listen," he grits out. "If my credibility has been 86'd by the fact of my relationship with Commander Reyes, then so be it. Withdraw my name from consideration. I'm telling you that the mission would not benefit from Commander Reyes' leadership over another, and Commander Reyes would not benefit from taking the reigns in any respect except for ego. He is capable, he is passionate, but he is not--" He stops; his shoulders fall, and he can't quite pinch the pained expression out of his brow. "As his friend, if on absolutely no other basis, I'm telling you to cut Gabe a break and pass him over on this promotion. Give him a second unit. He will run that with perfection. But don't put the pressures of the entire operation on that man's shoulders. His tactics will not suffer, but his spirit will shatter."

And unable to look at those goddamn spectacles or hear his own voice for a moment more, Jack strides from the room without another word.

  


  


* * *

  


  


When he gets back into his quarters, he finds Gabriel there: inexplicably wearing only his toque and underpants, the blanket strewn half off his hips. 

The ropes of his thigh lie exposed in the wan light of the moon. He is dead asleep; his head is thrown back, his mouth hangs open, and Jack wants almost nothing more than to kiss him to wakefulness. He wouldn't disturb his sleep. Jack undresses silently, leaving his uniform folded neatly over the nearest chair, and he steps over the disaster of Gabe's clothes on the floor to slip into bed beside him.

His efforts at silence are for nothing. Gabriel blinks awake as Jack pulls back the covers, and Jack says nothing except to pull Gabe against him, his ear at Gabe's heart.

"What's wrong with you?" Gabriel asks, voice rough with sleep.

"Doesn't matter," Jack says; but all of a sudden he feels he owes him more than that. "I'm just -- fucking tired. I'm really fucking tired, Gabriel. You know? It's just one of those days."

And Gabriel nods, as though this is enough, and sets his broad hands against Jack's spine. "Yeah, Morrison," he says, and sets his lips at Jack's brow with a comfort he doesn't deserve. "I know exactly what you mean."

  


  



End file.
